Alii I- ST, litis) 



(J L K A X I \ (7 S IK B K E CULTURE 



517 



"I 



c 



Beek 



eeping as a 



Grace Allen 



be liap}ty in 



are needed: 



must not do 



have a sense 



T is written 

 'in the 

 sweat of 

 th}' brow, ' but 

 it was n e \- e )• 

 written 'in the 

 breaking of 

 thin e li e a r t ' 

 thou shalt eat 

 bread; * * * 

 Now in order that people may 

 their work, these three things 

 They must be fit for it; they 

 too mucdi of it; and they must 

 of success in it. ' ' 



This is part of what John Raskin said 

 about happiness in work. He also says this: 

 "All rivers, small or large, agree in one 

 character; they like to lean a little to one 

 side; they cannot bear to have their chan- 

 nels deepest in the middle, but will always, 

 if they can, have one bank to sun them- 

 selves upon, and another to get cool under; 

 one shingly shore to play over, where they 

 may be shallow, and foolish, and childlike; 

 and another steep shore, under which they 

 can pause and purify themselves, and get 

 their strength of waves fully together for 

 due occasions. Rivers in this way are just 

 like w^ise men, who keep one side of their 

 life for play, and another for work; and 

 can be brilliant, and chattering, and trans- 

 parent when they are at ease, and yet take 

 <lee]) counsel on th^ other side when they 

 set themselves to the main purpose." 



Daddy Lowe is not the only one who loves 

 Ruskin. For many years his truth and 

 beauty and noble charm have held thousands 

 of readers captive. The hours yield them- 

 selves utterly to the spell of Ruskin 's page, 

 and as I close the book, to come back to 

 tasks that call me, there are shreds and 

 scraps of his beauty tangled in my thought. 

 Tho the clatter of things to be done brush 

 away many of these precious bits, these two 

 I had to share with all true sideliners. They 

 are ours. 



Indeed, all the gifts of all the great minds 

 of all the ages are ours, merely for the 

 claiming, and we miss by far the most preci- 

 ous part of our inheritance when we fail to 

 claim them. Shall we give our hours and 

 our thoughts so completely to honey-pro- 

 duction and honey-marketing, and those 

 things that give food and drink to the body, 

 that we forget the more important things 

 that give food and drink to the soul? 



We hear about ''reading beekeepers" 

 and the phrase means to us beekeepers who 

 read about beekeeping. As they should — 

 oh, most steadily and enthusiastically and 

 profitably. But tho I read all the books on 

 the gentle art of beekeeping — Langstroth, 

 Quinby, Miller, Phillips, Pellett, A B C, 

 and the rest; tho I digest bulletins and 

 treatises and Gleanings and all the other 

 journals in ])rint — if you grant me no time 

 oi' opiioitunity to read anything else, any- 

 thing written out of the high mood of some- 

 body's soul, then, tho you develop a success- 



Side Line 



1 



ful beekeeper, 

 how about me, 

 myself? I shall 

 have starved. 



Love of books, 

 great books, an<l 

 love of outdoors 

 — grand scene or 

 gentle scene, 

 cloud or star or 

 springing grass— -wliat are these but love of 

 beauty, and what is that but love of God? 



If you don 't mind my lacing personal, you 

 know I met Dr. Miller last winter. And tho 

 of course I knew it of him before, still, even 

 if I had not, as soon as I saw him I couldn 't 

 help knowing that he was something more, 

 something much more, than even a great 

 beekeeper — he was a man with a great soul, 

 that had fed thru long quiet hours on great 

 books, and living beauty, and high thinking. 

 And there was Eugene Secor, whose sudilen 

 a)iil tragic death so shocked us all last May. 

 Shortly before his death he had sent me 

 copies of two aildresses he delivered this 

 s{)ring. They were both filled with the 

 thoughtful dignity of a nature-lover who 

 had taken time to live fully, deeply, richly. 

 Note this, from one of them: 



' ' One cannot live in the wonderful ]ircs- 

 ence of Nature without becoming wiser, bet- 

 ter, and haptpier. The real sages of all ages 

 were outdoor men. The mind expands in 

 contact with the work of the Infinite Pur- 

 jfose. ^ * * There is something about 

 the outdoor world that makes one feel that 

 man is only a small part of a great system, 

 and that thought should make one humble 

 and impressionable to higher purposes and 

 nobler aims than mere money getting." 



Perhaps, if you chance to be a profes- 

 sional beekeeper, you are thinking, ' ' Oh, 

 reading is all very well for sideliners — you, 

 for instance, have only 50 colonies — I have 

 a thousand — I have no time for these 

 things. ' ' Then you better sell about nine 

 hundred and fifty! And buy a book — and 

 a rose! 



Except for its absurd exaggeration, there 

 is nothing foolish or impractical about that. 

 Wasn 't it Mahomet who said, " If I had but 

 two loaves of bread, I should sell one and 

 buy a hyacinth for my soul?" The wnsest 

 and most practical thing in all the world is 

 the thing that keeps the inner selves of us 

 fine and high. For "this secret and poetical 

 enthusiasm in all your hearts is indeed one 

 of the holiest parts of your being." Which 

 brings us right back to Ruskin again. 



The few reports we have heard to date of 

 honey crops around here are as discouraging 

 as we expected, not more than 25 to 30 

 ])ounds average, spring count. Rather dark 

 honey at that. Probably some of us will 

 enter into competition with W. J. Harvey 

 of Ui>alco, TTtah, for the prize for the best 

 lecord for 1919! The local crop as a whole 

 may, however, rise to a better average than 

 this. One thing looks certain to me. Where 

 you get very often such small crops as that, 



